


what's a love that doesn't keep you up all night

by moonlightmusings



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, TATINOF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:36:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8533330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightmusings/pseuds/moonlightmusings
Summary: It still doesn’t feel real, the world seems to blend into a white noise around the two of them. The chatter of their crew, the sound of their pre-show playlist in the theatre, it’s barely there.  Dan looks up in awe, tearing up a little bit, dew drop tears land on his shirt and he sniffles, catching the attention of a few crew members. He wipes away small teardrops lingering on freckled skin and takes in a deep breath before speaking. His hands still feel shaky, and the lights burn bright into his retinas as he tries to grasp hold of his feelings.  “I just,” Dan pauses for a few beats, until he meets Phil’s eyes again and the serene, ocean blue washes over Dan, tells him you’re okay. “Can’t really believe this is happening.” Phil smiles softly, cheeks painted in shades of rose as he grasps Dan’s hand again. He hears Cornelia “aww” in the distance and somewhere in the back of the theatre he hears Martyn yell: “Dan Howell you absolute sap!”





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dogcafe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogcafe/gifts).



> This was written for [Scout's](http://starkoushi.tumblr.com/) birthday! Happy birthday Scout! Our friendship is something I never expected to happen and I'm so glad that it did. You're an amazing person inside and out, and I'm so happy that I get to call you my best friend. Thank you for everything that you've done for me! I can't wait to travel the world with you and watch you accomplish everything you've ever dreamed of. You're such a special person, there truly isn't another person like you, nobody has your creativity, kindness, or spirit. So here's to many more months of letting sports anime ruin our lives, planning out more fics than we can write, and taking on the world together. I have so much love for you scout, Happy Birthday!
> 
> (You can find me on tumblr [here](http://djhanime.tumblr.com/))

The tour feels something like a dream. 

 

It hasn’t fully sunken in for Dan yet, not with the tour being a mere  _ idea _ just over a year ago. It wasn’t real, nothing tangible with any physical attribute to account for its existence. It was something to discuss over takeout on their sofa in the evening, with the soft sunset streaming through the window; and in the morning, bleary eyed with sleep clinging to their features and cups of coffee pressed to their lips. It was, for a while, something vaguely plausible yet impossible all at once, and maybe that’s why he shoots Phil countless nervous smiles, embellished with shaky laughs when they meet with their tour managers. 

 

None of it feels real.

 

He isn’t sure if Phil feels the same way, because he’s always been an enigma. A pot that boils steadily, yet water never spills over the edges. In front of friends and family he speaks excitedly with no trace of nerves lacing his voice, gesticulating a bit wildly and his features are so animated that Dan can’t help but grab onto the positive energy he emits.

 

Neither of them are quite sure of how to react when everything is finalized. They celebrate by themselves at home, with a bottle of ribena (because neither of them like business meetings with a hangover) and thai food delivered to their door. Dan’s happy to find that a big event like this doesn’t change anything of their routine. He still plays piano at god-awful hours of the morning, with Phil laying horizontally at the foot of Dan’s bed, watching skilled fingers dance over keys with such a fervor, that he doesn’t understand how such soft sounds can fill the room. Dan still waits until Phil falls asleep to the sound of  Chopin's Etude Op. 25, No. 11 or the gentle notes of The 1975’s new album on piano before he climbs into bed himself. 

 

They still rise at 11:30 A.M, drowsily reaching for each other under the sheets. Phil presses his chilled toes to Dan’s calves, playing footsie until the other stirs and yawns sleepily. Phil still buys a ridiculous amount of cactuses that line their windowsills and towering houseplants with leaves so large their house begins to  _ resemble a rainforest Phil, honestly _ according to Dan.

 

They’ll miss the routine they’ve established at home, whilst on tour, but Dan thinks about moonlit kisses in the countryside, having brunch in small-town cafés, and walks on the beach in Brighton, and decides he’ll sacrifice a sleepy Phil clinging to his body for a month, in exchange for everything else.

 

: :

 

By 4:27 that evening, their bags are packed, sitting in the lounge waiting to be hauled into their car tomorrow morning. The room is quiet and Dan can’t really remember the last time he felt so on edge for  _ so long _ . His stomach twists nervously every time he scrolls through his Twitter timeline, seeing countless tweets excited about tomorrow’s show, excited about seeing  _ him _ .

 

He feels the urge to ramble, and speak aimlessly to no one in particular to try and fathom the fact that this is actually happening. He thinks speaking will help him wade through the sea of his emotions. Instead of letting them repeat over and over inside his mind, a song on repeat with the lyrics as his thoughts.

 

“Dan, are you alright?” Phil appears in the doorway of the lounge, clad in pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. Dan twists in his position on the couch to meet Phil’s eyes. A little bit of the worry melts away at seeing Phil, and he takes comfort in the ease that slowly disperses throughout his body.

 

“Yeah, I’m alright, just nervous, I suppose,” Dan says, eyes following Phil until he sits next to him on the sofa. He shifts his body so his head placed carefully onto Phil’s lap, with his fingers carding through Dan’s hair in a comforting manner. 

 

“I am too, I’d be worried if you weren’t.” Phil says softly. Dan wriggles around to look up at him, doe-eyed and vulnerable in a way that Phil hasn’t seen for a while. Something constricts in his chest and he feels twenty-two again, wanting to protect the small eighteen year old boy with soft brown hair and ocean-deep dimples. 

 

“Do you think that we’re ready for this?” Dan whispers, his voice cracks a little on the vowels and that strengthens the urge Phil has to hug him. He doesn’t though, just stares out the window, brushes his thumb against the supple skin of Dan’s cheeks. 

 

If this were a lighter moment Phil might’ve taken the opportunity to crack a joke, asked Dan if he was using a new moisturizer in hopes of eliciting a laugh. It’s always a nice feeling to be someone’s relief from anxious feelings, watching the tension seep out of their shoulders and feeling your heart swell from knowing that you’ve done something right. 

 

“I know we’re ready for this.” Phil says, holding his voice as steady as possible. 

 

This is it, what their whole lives have been leading up to, it’s nowhere near the finale of their careers, but it’s a big moment; a milestone they’ll remember for ages. It’s not the end, but a reflection, of everything they’ve accomplished and in a way, foreshadowing what’s to come. 

 

: :

 

Dan tries to remain passive, he really does. It takes an uncomfortable amount of effort to hide his shaking hands and nervous nail-biting. He’s been awake since 3:34 AM that morning and hasn’t had any sleep since. Only feeling sleepy as the water from the showerhead washes over him, lukewarm and soporific in the biting, autumnal air of their apartment. 

 

However, the comfort is fleeting and he feels a frustrating sort of exhaustion as the room blurs around him. Phil kisses mollifying words into his skin before they leave the house, once on the forehead, twice on his cheeks. The red blush dusting his cheeks afterwards blows away the exhaustion and leaves a small smile on his face. 

 

“This time tomorrow we’ll have finished our first show.” Phil muses from the backseat, meeting Dan’s eyes with a small, yet excited grin. Dan smiles back, albeit nervously and takes Phil’s hand in his own, squeezing tightly. Phil squeezes back, offers Dan a sip of his pumpkin spice latte and then presses a kiss to Dan’s knuckles. 

 

He blushes again, this time a reminder of their love. 

 

: :

 

The air is chilly when they step out of the car. Dan comes out first, stretching long legs and equally as long arms against the whipping wind, and then extending his hand out to Phil. He takes it gratefully, still a little dizzy with nausea and disoriented from his nap. 

 

“You’ll be alright?” Dan asks, eyeing him carefully, a gentle tone seizing his voice as they walk into the theatre. 

 

“I’ll be fine!” Phil chirps, and as they walk in, the cerulean of his eyes seem to reflect the lights in the chandeliers above their heads. The tour crew filters in behind them, flitting around the theatre and setting up merchandise stands.. 

 

It still doesn’t feel real, the world seems to blend into a white noise around the two of them. The chatter of their crew, the sound of their pre-show playlist in the theatre, it’s barely there. 

 

Dan looks up in awe, tearing up a little bit, dew drop tears land on his shirt and he sniffles, catching the attention of a few crew members. He wipes away small teardrops lingering on freckled skin and takes in a deep breath before speaking. His hands still feel shaky, and the lights burn bright into his retinas as he tries to grasp hold of his feelings. 

 

“I just,” Dan pauses for a few beats, until he meets Phil’s eyes again and the serene, ocean blue washes over Dan, tells him  _ you’re okay _ . “Can’t really believe this is happening.”

 

Phil smiles softly, cheeks painted in shades of rose as he grasps Dan’s hand again. He hears Cornelia “aww” in the distance and somewhere in the back of the theatre he hears Martyn yell: “Dan Howell you absolute sap!” 

 

He laughs again, loud and ringing throughout the room. In a few short hours the theatre will be filled with one hundred screaming fans, waiting to meet them, and then hundreds more will file in for the show at seven. 

 

The months of preparation, now coming together into the month-long celebration they’ve been waiting for. 

 

: :

The show can only be described as an explosion. 

 

“A  _ phan _ splosion,” Phil supplies backstage while fixing his fringe. Dan looks at Phil with faux annoyance, nudging him over so they can both huddle in front of the mirror. 

 

“That’s the worst portmanteau ever created, I swear.” He raises up from the mirror, now satisfied with his hair and begins to pace, settling into a familiar rhythm, a habit he’s truthfully never been able to break. 

 

“I’m pretty sure you came up with phansplosion,  _ Howell _ .”

 

Dan stops abruptly and raises one eyebrow at Phil. “Excuse me,  _ Lester _ , but when have I ever-”

 

“I can name a couple horrible puns you’ve made and our gaming videos are more than enough proof!” Phil smirks and goes back to tending to his fringe gap, looking a bit too victorious for Dan’s liking. 

 

“Don’t make me bring up your  _ first video-” _

 

“I have “Hello Internet” saved on my phone and I can  _ easily _ get Martyn to play it over the speakers.” Phil smiles sweetly at him, batting his eyelashes and waving his phone tauntingly. 

 

“5 minutes!” One of their crew members yell from behind the door. They turn to face each other, Dan grips Phil’s hands in his own, and rocks on his heels. The butterflies in his stomach beat faster and his hands flutter to the same tempo. 

 

“We made it,” Phil says softly, his voice honeyed and sweet. A sense of astonishment in his tone as the screams from the crowd seem to rise up and get impossibly louder. 

 

“We did.” Dan smiles, adjusts his headset as a crew member directs them around backstage. 

 

They made it, indeed. 

 

: :

 

Dan half expected them to be absolute party-animals after their shows. Imagining stereotypical tour life he’s mused over since the tickets went live in March. He realizes he was wrong, as they tug along their many suitcases and bone-deep exhaustion into a hotel room for the night.

 

He doesn’t mind that they aren’t partying as much as he thought he would. They do commemorate their first show though, with an expensive bottle of red wine,  and far too much pasta in the warm glow of their hotel room. Phil bought the wine and Dan bought the obscene amount of pasta that’ll probably in part, be tomorrow’s lunch. 

 

“We’re on tour!” Phil slurs out after his third glass, his eyes are glassy, glazed over and his body movements are languid. He’s lucky that there isn’t a show tomorrow and it’s a traveling day, so he takes comfort in the fact that he can sleep off any remnants of a hangover. After a moment, Dan pulls him into his lap, warm weight settling on on his chest and he thinks  _ home _ and  _ love,  _  somewhere in the wine induced haze. 

 

“We’re on tour,” Dan repeats after a few beats, the wine is making him drowsy and he feels his eyelids slipping closed. A pleasant buzz moves through his body, and if he wasn’t so sleepy he’s sure something lachrymose and poignant would have spilled from his lips.  The television screen is starlight streaming onto their bodies and Phil’s skin burns a rose gold in Dan’s arms.  He’s gorgeous and splayed out, warm and comfortable. 

 

Dan wants him so badly, but he’s too comfortable to even consider moving, so he settles for stroking Phil’s hair and pressing soft lips to dyed hair intermittently. Somewhere in between the first and second kiss, Phil lifts his head up to slot their lips together. He kisses sloppy and slow, sweet with affection, but with a tongue that’s sour from the alcohol. It’s nevertheless good, familiar.

 

Dan’s always been quite an observant person, but that trait seems enhanced in his state of mind. He notices  _ everything _ , the soft strands of Phil’s hair, the rise and fall of his chest as he slumbers on Dan’s chest, and the warmth of his body. A weight grounding him to the bed, comforting and it feels just like being home in their apartment. He realizes, while his head is swimming from the alcohol, it really doesn’t matter where he is in the world, as long as he has Phil. 

 

: :

 

They slip into the tour lifestyle with more ease than Dan had expected, and gradually adjust to being on the road. There are a couple days they spend at home, but the majority of time is spent in their silver minivan, shoulder to shoulder in the backseat.

 

The temperature drops even lower as the tour progresses, but it doesn’t feel anything out of the ordinary for Autumn. Dan steals Phil’s hoodies before bed and they share steaming hot tea in their dressing room before meet and greets.

 

The fleeting time they spend at home between shows, is split between being curled under their duvet, and wading through their many emails and business letters.

 

“Dan?” Phil calls from under the blankets, his head peeks out, hair mussed around his forehead and eyes bright. 

 

“Hm?” He’s now sat at his desk, filtering through an obscene amount of business emails and what seems like an infinite amount of tweets about their last shows. 

 

The tweets he doesn’t mind at all, it fills him with an unadulterated form of euphoria to see their fans so enamoured with the show. They’ve worked hard on it, and the praise feels comforting, a welcome reaction to something they put their hearts and souls into. 

 

“Come here,” Phil makes grabby hands at Dan and throws the duvet to the side so Dan can shuffle in next to him. “Please?”

 

“I’m almost finished,” Dan says, smiling softly, a blush spreading across his cheeks that he’ll later blame on the heating being too high. 

 

“Be finished now.” Phil demands, petulant but with lethargy dripping from his voice, slow and syrupy, making his voice raspy and quiet.

 

“Don’t be so demanding, Phil.” Dan admonishes, but there's no sternness to his voice, just affection. 

 

“I have a right to be, whoever is emailing you has your attention more than I do! Who’s more important than I am?” Dan laughs at that and relents, stretching out of his chair and padding over to the bed. They wrap their lanky bodies together, melding as one and sharing in the body heat. 

 

Phil makes a pleased noise, snuggling impossibly further into Dan’s chest with a pleasantly warm body. His lips feel plush and soft when they pepper kisses to every inch of Dan’s face. Love lingers everywhere in the room, in between their entwined fingers, at the corners of their mouths, and the tip of their tongues when they kiss sweetly. 

 

Most of it is kept within them though, filling them with an overwhelming urge to just  _ be together _ , to have every inch of their skin pressed against one another. 

 

“Hello,” Dan giggles, voice a whisper of affection in the quiet of their bedroom. Phil smiles, brushes his thumb over Dan’s cheek bone, along the freckles dotting his cheeks like raindrops on a window. 

 

“Hi,” Phil murmurs into Dan’s neck. Dan’s hands card through Phil’s hair, playing with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. 

 

Dan hums a tune he can’t put a name to as they bask in the comfort of  _ nothing _ . They drift in and out of sleep intermittently. The rhythmic rise and fall of Dan’s chest acting as a lullaby to Phil. His breathing plays the melody, quiet and sweet, and his heart plays the steady beat of the drum. Although, as Phil drifts off, Dan stays awake, bathed in hues of blue from the glow his laptop emits. 

 

He thinks he could get used to this- and he has gotten used to it- the weight of Phil sprawled sleepy and content across his bed, the way he smiles lethargically at 7:30 AM. 

 

It’s so so familiar, after seven years of unconsciously becoming a part of each other. 

 

: :

 

During the tour, Dan smiles so often he thinks his cheeks might split open. 

 

“Gross, Dan,” Phil wrinkles his nose with a breathy laugh when Dan tells him, and he smiles  _ again _ , dimples on display, moon craters amongst freckled skin. Although they both know it’s true, it’s impossible to not be happy and “disgustingly in love” as Louise puts it.

 

“It’s not  _ gross _ ,” Dan rolls his eyes and flicks Phil on the arm twice. “It’s true, my cheeks hurt!” His sentence breaks off with a laugh and he feels so cheerful. He’s filled to the brim with overwhelming love and pride and satisfaction. It threatens to spill over and at times it does, when he gushes to people about their success, their  _ future _ together.

 

Dan doesn’t know when it became  _ we  _ instead of  _ I _ , when he unknowingly began to include Phil in his future, when Dan and Phil became one noun instead of two separate ones. He finds he doesn’t mind that he can’t really remember when it all came together. The memories of him saying he and Phil could never- _ would never _ be a double act, those are distant now, they’re tucked away with the rest of his younger years. 

 

_ Character development,  _ Phil calls it, with no trace of animosity in his voice for the younger Dan in question. Dan discovers he likes looking back on memories in that manner as well. He likes the person he’s become, he’s proud of what he’s accomplished, and anticipating the years to come. 

 

_ We’re just getting started,  _ he tells Phil over dinner one night. He smiles when he says it, not shyly- but confidently. Phil reaches over, laces their fingers together and squeezes hard, they don’t always need words to convey emotion between them.

 

Since 2009, they’ve known each other in a way that scares other couples. PJ remarks one afternoon that Sophie always seems to forget how much sugar he likes in his tea, but Dan can’t relate. So he smiles sympathetically, pats PJ’s hand in a mock-condescending manner and tells him he’ll get over it and to enjoy the extra sugar.

 

They all laugh, PJ says that Dan is a twat but it’s all loving. When PJ isn’t looking, he plays footsie with Phil under the table, smiling because it’s a beautiful feeling to be in love. Especially with someone who  _ truly _ knows you, someone who cares about getting to know you again and again as you grow and develop and change. Also someone who knows that there are some things that never change. A person who knows that you still like your sweater sleeves pulled over your hands when winter brings frigid nights and crisp mornings; that you take your coffee black in the morning, and afternoon tea with 2 sugars and a dash of milk.

 

: :

 

6 shows into the tour, Dan realizes they need to capture everything.

 

It’s partly because he’s quite a sentimental person, he holds onto things and counts himself as a painfully nostalgic individual; Phil is too, but not nearly as much as Dan is. Whilst they both generally move and create with a similar sort of vibe, Phil’s a fast-paced person. Always moving onto the next thing; a new video, new tv show, even things that seem mundane to others, seemingly contribute to his constantly moving lifestyle.

 

The dichotomy doesn’t bother Dan, but rather gives way to new adventures for the two of them to embark on. The tour being the biggest-  _ the best _ \- one they’ve ever been on. It’s also the most ambitious and scariest, but Dan finds the twist in his stomach is now because of excitement instead of nerves and he likes it that way. Their dreams came true and how many people get to say that? Not many, and he didn’t think he’d be able to say that until the show truly captured everything they’ve accomplished.

 

So he wants to chronicle it, something for themselves, and for the people who couldn’t make it.

 

: :

 

“A documentary?” Phil asks, cocking his head to the side, intrigued clearly and Dan’s so glad they work on the same wavelength. 

 

“Yeah, somethin’ like, a behind the scenes type of thing? To show like, I suppose everything that went into making the tour; our creative process.” Dan’s a little nervous, they don’t have a film crew, or even a proper photographer to take photos, so he says it more to the stir-fry in front of him rather than Phil.

 

“That’s an idea,” Phil says around a bite, he chews and swallows before grinning at Dan. “That’d be really cool actually, showing how we made everything.”

 

Dan smiles, biting his lip to hold back the excitement threatening to slip through corner of his mouth. It’s an idea; a start of chronicling the biggest adventure of their lives.

 

“My friend is a photographer, we could invite him to take a couple pictures, see how we like them and move from there.” Phil offers.

 

Dan nods hastily if not a little over-zealous for 8:43 in the evening. He was tired a few moments ago, but now they’re both bursting with ideas. The passion that’s pooling between the two of them that will manifest into something tangible in a couple of months.

 

It again, starts of as something like a dream, nothing real yet, certainly not something that can be pitched to a team or a company, but it starts with a dream. Dan thinks that’s probably a metaphor for something.

 

: :

 

When the UK tour comes to a close, Dan feels as if they need to do something important. There’s a yearning for something he doesn’t quite have a name for yet. 

 

Phil calls it wanderlust, and says they should take another trip to Japan. Whilst Dan isn’t opposed to another Japan trip, and  _ God _ does kissing under the cherry blossom trees sound appealing; it’s something  _ deeper _ . 

 

: :

 

Their names are in lights above the London Palladium and none of it feels real. It’s the finale they both dreamed of, Dan thinks that this must be it, performing in front of their friends and family and showcasing what they’ve worked  _ so  _ hard on. 

 

_ This is the important thing _ he decides backstage, he looks determinedly into the mirror in front of him.  _ This is it, this is the moment it’s all been leading up to _ . 

 

“Ready?” Phil asks, practically bouncing on his heels, bursting with so much energy and passion that it lights a fire in his blue eyes. Dan pauses a moment, and he thinks about the fluttering feeling of love, about the yearning that still hasn’t been sated yet. 

 

_ I love you so much,  _ his thoughts scream, trying to be heard over the pounding bass of the music and the loud roar their followers emit.  _ I love you so much _ , he mouths to Phil, something hot curls in his stomach as his lips form the vowels and his tongue curls on the consonants. It reminds him of how he felt when they first met; a dizzy feeling, that unfurls like a wildfire and reaches up to the tips of his ears. It fills him up and takes a seat inside him, right next to _ nervous _ while friends with  _ excited _ . 

 

“What?” Phil calls out to him as the countdown begins. Dan smiles, shakes his head and beckons him over. 

 

_ I love you _ sits on his tongue, 3 words strung together with what feels like a lifetime of affection. He feels the words threaten to come out. As he looks into the shining deep blue and green of Phil’s eyes, and swallow the words back down. 

 

_ I love you _ is what he wants to say, yet when he’s about to say the words they don’t feel right anymore. Dan realizes that there are no words to truly describe the affection he has for Phil.

 

“I’ve forgotten the entire show,” is what he ends up saying when Phil moves in close enough to hear Dan’s voice. He laughs, his whole body shaking as he adjusts his microphone. One of his buttons is undone, his hair is slightly mussed and it’s uniquely a Phil Lester trait to look so casual, yet the best goddamn thing Dan has ever seen. 

 

“C’mere,” Dan pulls him over quickly, nimble fingers closing the gap that exposes pale skin. They brush over black hair, run down rosy cheeks and brush against steady hands. 

 

“Thanks,” Phil winks and smiles again. Except he can’t wink so Dan laughs softly, bouncing on his heels, he wants to feel ready for this, but he isn’t. 

 

He isn’t ready, because it yet again, doesn’t feel real. It feels more like a dream but it seems like that that’s what everything starts with. He still hasn’t figured out that metaphor, but as he gazes into Phil’s eyes on stage, feels his heart thump with the tempo of the music, he thinks he’ll find the answer soon. 

 

: :

 

Two days after the tour ends they’re back into their regular routine, or at least a watered-down version of it. 

 

It’s easy to sink back into days of vibrant colored animes and the familiar comfort of their own home. They resume watching anime together, an episode in the morning, bleary eyed whilst hot coffee melts away the sleep still sticking to their lips. They resume sleeping together as well, curled tightly with hands entwined as the moonlight streams through the bedroom window.

 

Content settles in the pit of Dan’s stomach as they recover from the harrows of touring. Sleepless nights fade away, and love seems to flurry around them like the first snowfall in London on a dreary Wednesday evening. 

 

The routine is familiar yet Dan feels that there’s something missing. The deeper longing for something still sits, deep-rooted inside his chest and clinging to his thoughts.

 

So he sets out to find what it is, running through his daily routine with a fine-toothed comb and an eye out for odd details. He doesn’t notice how hard he’s been looking until Phil remarks that he’s been “squinting his eyes the entire way through dinner and if he has something on his face Dan should tell him”.

 

Dan laughs at this, tells Phil it’s nothing, that he’s mulling over a new video idea. Phil rolls his eyes and they continue watching Bake-Off while munching on sugar cookies. 

 

Yet there’s still  _ something missing _ . 

 

: :

 

“I think,” Louise says to Dan over the café table. She leans over conspiratorially, a grin spreading across her cheeks as she suppresses a giggle. “That  _ you _ , Daniel James Howell,” another giggle escapes and Dan sighs exasperatedly. 

 

“Alright Louise, get on with it, I don’t have all day you know.” 

 

“Shut up and let me be dramatic Dan, you absolute buzz kill!” Louise sips her tea and fixes Dan with a hard look. 

 

“Okay, okay,” Dan sits back, sighs and folds his hands on the table in front of him. 

 

“You want to get married!” She says, laughing delightedly at Dan’s widened eyes. 

 

He’s rendered speechless, something a few people get to see. Not a word escapes through his lips as he sits, frozen with one hand curled around his water glass. Any witty response he has is stuck in his throat, because the idea feels  _ right _ . 

 

Why haven’t they got married yet? A picture manifests itself in Dan’s mind and everything falls in place like dominoes falling on top of each other. He’s craved it subconsciously he realizes, a white picket fence with a two dogs running in the backyard behind their house. 

 

But he never bothered to read into it, because he’s stood by the belief that home is wherever Phil is. Home is terrible tv shows and pizza orders at 10 PM, it’s fingers interlocked over their breakfast table and listening to music through laptop speakers with one’s head in the other’s lap. 

 

“Oh my god,” Dan says, starting to laugh as in the dim lighting of the café, all the answers appear one after the other. 

 

“Oh my god, you didn’t realize this before?” Louise asks, beginning to join in with his laughter. 

 

“No!” Dan says, holding his face in his hands, smiling widely. He gazes out into the window behind them for a moment. He thinks about givenchy suits and fluttering cherry blossoms; if the weather would be nicer in April than June and what color matches Phil’s eyes the best. 

 

They’re on the second floor of an obscure café in London, Dan’s fingers wrap around a steaming cup of green tea. When he inhales deeply and exhales the lingering hold of nerves, he realizes he wants to marry Phil Lester.  

 

“A wedding to plan, do you even have a ring yet?” 

 

Dan shakes his head, sips his tea again and finds that that doesn’t matter either. Phil would marry him if he got down on one knee with a cherry flavored Ring Pop and rambled on about 2009, 2016 and all the bits and pieces that happened in between. So it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t have a proposal planned out in meticulous bullet points, it doesn’t matter that he doesn’t have the slightest idea of how to pick out a ring. None of it matters because they’re still the same Dan and Phil from 7 years ago, who had slightly too long hair and shy smiles and higher pitched voices.

 

: :

 

The ring sits in his closet, tucked away behind a pair of formal shoes, and under a sweater haphazardly thrown over it. It sits for a while, and he doesn’t say anything to Phil, but sometimes he sits on his bed, twirling the ring in his fingers. A thoughtful look captures his features and most times he’ll toy with fantasies of how to propose. It shouldn’t be too extravagant, but big enough that Phil knows this is important to Dan, that  _ he’s  _ important to Dan.

 

He imagines a beach proposal, on a brisk night in Brighton, with the crashing waves of the sea mingling with a heartfelt profession of his love. He imagines Phil’s smile, his bell-like laughter and the warmth of his body when they hug. Then there’s a dinner proposal, with black suits, and Dan dropping to one knee in a private corner, romantic and subtle. They’re all beautiful in theory, but none of them feel  _ right _ , they’re cliché and Dan wants this to be unique.

 

The ring sits in his closet for almost a full two weeks. Not a word of it’s existence gracing Phil’s knowledge, and Dan still doesn’t know how to propose. He ponders it for long enough that Phil knows something is wrong. He can see the worry making a home next to Dan, following him around, prodding his shoulder at breakfast and keeping him awake into the depths of the night.

 

“Dan,” Phil confronts him one evening, pressing a mug of tea into his right hand and taking his left hand into his own, gently pulling him to sit on the couch. “What’s on your mind?” 

 

Dan sighs, because if there’s one thing he hasn’t been good at for all these years, it’s keeping something a secret from Phil. He doesn’t say much for a long moment, letting the silence fill the space between them, sort of like how the steam from their mugs mingle together and then float into the air around them. 

 

Dan pauses before answering, Phil rubs crop-circles of comfort into the back of his palm, over and over, regarding him with a concerned twist to his features. He sighs again, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with air as his heart pounds loudly in his chest and fuck this wasn’t the way he wanted it to go.

 

Dan grips Phil’s hand tightly and closes his eyes. The soft hum of the London streets are drowned under steady beat of his heart. There’s a sea inside him, made of adrenaline that mixes with the blood staining the tips of his ears a vibrant crimson. He decides that maybe he’s not the best swimmer, but whatever happens he knows Phil will pull him up before the waves tug him under.

 

Suddenly, he shoots up from the couch, taking his hand from Phil’s grasp and jogging to his bedroom. 

 

“Dan?” Phil yells after him, following him into the bedroom when Dan emerges, the ring box tucked into the side of his sweatpants, out of sight. 

 

“Dan, I swear you better explain what’s going on right-” Phil begins to say with an exasperated look, but cuts himself off, as Dan sinks to one knee with the box carefully placed in his hand and a grin spread across his face. Phil claps both his hands over his mouth with a muffled  _ Oh my God Dan what the hell. _

 

“Phil Lester,” he starts off, and he faintly realizes he isn’t prepared at all for this, but he presses on. “Since 2009-” but Dan never gets to finish his improvised speech on 2009 and 2016 and all the bits and pieces in between, because Phil is on the floor right next to Dan, openly crying and murmuring  _ yes yes yes _ a thousand times over until it’s practically inscribed into the right side of Dan’s neck. He shuts the ring box closed and wraps his arms around Phil, mumbling comforting words to calm both their beating hearts.

 

Phil pulls away after a few minutes, laughing softly and wiping away tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you finish.” 

 

“It’s okay,” Dan laughs along with him and swipes at his own wet cheeks, hugging Phil once more before sliding the ring on his finger. Phil holds it up to the light, with a captivated smile as he watches the tiny diamonds shimmer and sparkle. Dan watches him, with a feeling of euphoria as Phil drags him back to the lounge. He’s all loud laughter, and a shining smile right now, bursting full of excitement and planning out their wedding with bright colors and wild gesticulations.

 

Like always, it starts with a dream, nothing feels quite real yet, but it will. Gradually, it will and Dan knows it’ll be up there with some of the best damn things he’s ever experienced in his life.

 

: :

**Author's Note:**

> edit: as of 03/17/17 i no longer write for the phandom.
> 
> thank you for the love you have shown this fic.


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